Kissogram for John Watson
by whenallthegoodnamesaregone
Summary: "Kissogram for John Watson." And that was when John's day got about ten thousand times worse than it already was, which, John thought to himself through all the confusion, was a very grand achievement indeed.


This was done from a prompt that the amazing i-owe-you-a-tardis on tumblr

Her prompt was...

Sherlock pulling a prank on John and going to his work, pretending to be a kissogram and embarrassing him

Bonus points for...  
if he's wearing a police uniform  
would kiss John in front of all of his friends at work

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"Kissogram for John Watson."

And that was when John's day got about ten _thousand_ times worse than it already was, which, John thought to himself through all the confusion, was a very grand achievement indeed.

It had started in the morning when the shower had decided that John deserved a wonderful, icy cold wash that morning.

"_Shit!"_ John almost screamed and hopped madly out of the shower's spray "Sherlock!"

Ah yes, his oh-so-helpful flat share, and by 'helpful' John meant lazy-bastard-good-for-nothing-lay-about.

"Sherlock, are you running the tap!?"

"No…" came a baritone reply, barely muffled by the shower door "Why would I run the tap, John?"

John opened his mouth to speak once more but was interrupted by the rich voice.

"It's obvious the hot water has just run out, I'd tell Mrs Hudson but…"

"But what, Sherlock?!" John's voice cracked in frustration as he flattened himself against the shower wall, avoiding the freezing water.

There was a pause and John could practically _feel_ Sherlock smirking to himself in the other room.

"But…I'm busy and I can't be bothered so…off you trot."

John almost stormed out of the bathroom and strangled the man, _would have_ in fact if his sense of pride and decency wasn't so important to him.

_No, you know what? Fuck you Mr Sherlock Holmes._

So John had a cold shower, cutting off your own nose to spite your face much?

But that was only just the beginning as it seemed.

Sherlock was being an incredibly annoying prick today, even more than usual (the second grand achievement of the day).

When Watson had stumbled out of the shower, barely catching any heat from his normally so warm jumper and jeans, Sherlock was sprawled over the sofa as if it was a chaise longue with an unread magazine over his chest.

John almost screamed, _the bastard wasn't even busy, he was just lazy, what a wanker!_

The doctor glanced at his wrist watch; he still had about half an hour before he had to get off.

Of course this lead to him making a cup of tea, because what else could you do when you had to wait for half an hour, that and he was still freezing from his icy nemesis.

"Yes please." Holmes' dark voice rang out from his position on the sofa.

John considered ignoring him but the overall anger boiling inside him was too much.

"Yes. Please. _What?!_" he snarled pointedly, spitting out every word through gritted teeth.

Sherlock looked at him, as cool as anything. Just the faintest trace of a smile flickered across his cupid bow lips but his expression was that of belittling and demeaning.

"Yes please with sugar on top?" he smirked and John had to really restrain himself from flipping a table.

"NO SHERLOCK!" he bellowed, maybe with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Oh…" and there it was, that _bloody_ pout.

No, this was it, this was the last straw.

John slammed his open palms on the table and stormed off, grabbing his coat as he left through the door.

_Not today, Sherlock, I'm not in the mood for it today._

…

When the doctor had _finally_ arrived at Bart's hospital after hours of traffic and a taxi driver that sang out of tune to Brittany Spear's 'Toxic' the whole ride, John soon came to the conclusion that work wasn't going to be any better.

The waiting room was full of the usual folk one sees whilst in a doctors' surgery; the patient in the corner moaning for no reason, the sniffling youth, the crying baby…the whole shebang.

However, as if this wasn't bad enough, it turned out Dr John H Watson was behind on about nine or ten patients and Sarah was fed up with taking them off his hands.

John sighed as he hung his coat in his office and sat down behind his desk.

He couldn't do this, he really couldn't.

It was hard enough not to burst into tears at the sight of the inside of his office once more, so you can imagine the uncountable amount of stress and effort it bought our doctor to reach across the table and buzz the first patient in.

"Doctor Watson is free please, n-next patient?" what did he mean 'next patient'?

He hadn't even had _one_ patient yet, let alone a _next-bloody-patient!_

The door opened and John sat up straight in his chair, trying to look as friendly as he didn't feel.

The man who entered the room was elderly and perfectly healthy looking, so that could only mean one thing.

John felt his face fall as the man gave him a toothless grin and suddenly he didn't want to play this game anymore.

"Oh, hello Mr…" he checked his notes "…Mr Brown, please take a seat" he tried not to be monotone, he really tried.

Just as he had suspected, right there, printed plainly in black and white on his information sheets was the words '**prostate exam**'.

John almost sobbed.

He didn't need this first thing in the morning.

The good doctor sighed and rose from his desk,

"If you'd like to follow me good sir…" he wasn't even trying to be friendly anymore, but I suppose the most he could do was snap the gloves on and get it over with.

…

Finally, after a few blocked noses, one throaty cough, one case of tonsillitis, an inflamed stomach, three prostate exams, one check-up and ten basic prescriptions, it was lunch break.

Oh god, lunch break. The only time of the day John remotely enjoyed.

That's if he had remembered to bring money with him this morning…he barely had enough to pay of the cabbie.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, bollocks, shit, shit!_

Okay, maybe that was too harsh but still, it felt like the world was practically ending.

Where was his precious lunch break?

Our poor, tired, foodless doctor headed to the staff room with his head hung in shame.

When he got there he was surprised to find that quite a lot of doctors and nurses were off duty for lunch.

Oh great…socialising.

He barely sat down when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

**SH- what are you doing? Doctor stuff I presume?**

Jesus Christ Sherlock, why was he doing this now?

He was such an annoying bastard today; John almost began to think if it was one of his 'experiments'.

And then he remembered that no, this was just Sherlock Holmes.

_'Well, no, not today.' _John huffed and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

Almost as soon as John had his hand above the table again –**buzz-**.

No, you're going to ignore it.

-**Buzz-**

John Hamish Watson, you are not picking up that pho-

**SH- I bet you had a prostate exam first, haha.**

**SH- talk to me, I'm bored.**

Nope, no, no, no, you're not going to talk to him, let him suffer.

Watson put the phone back into his pocket with a smirk.

_Oh, John you malicious bastard._

**-Buzz-**

_Oh bloody hell, what now!?_

**SH- I'm sending you a present…**

**-Buzz-**

**SH- you'll love it…**

"Oh god." John muttered under his breath, what the hell is Sherlock 'sending him'?!

And was it over mobile or was it a letter or what!?

Okay, John was scared right now, and he had all reason to be as well; this was Sherlock Holmes he was dealing with.

"John…" Sarah's voice sounded from behind him and he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Y-yes, what is it Sarah?" he squeaked, shifting around to face the woman stood behind him.

She smiled a little unsurely at him and John tried not to look like he was expecting a bomb to go off at any second.

"Are you oka-"

"Yes, yes, I'm…" he cleared his throat "…fine, I'm fine, what is it?"

She looked him over once more but obviously decided that whatever it was wasn't worth it.

"Well, there's this policeman here to see you…says it's important."

John's stomach dropped, _oh shit, what did I do, I'm not in bother am I?_

It was like going to see the headmaster's office when he was younger, he felt damn right terrified.

Sarah picked up on his panic and winked at him, stopping his thoughts dead…_what?_

_Was this a joke?_

But without giving anything more remotely of use to calm John's nerves, she walked away and suddenly there was tap on his shoulder.

John shot out of his chair so fast that it was almost unnatural.

"Listen officer, I don't know what I've done but-" and then he stopped and took a proper look at said 'policeman'.

His stomach tightened into knots that he couldn't even tie with a piece of string, let alone his stomach linings.

"Sh-Sherlock!?"

Yes, it was his incredibly annoying flat share stood before him, dressed head to toe in police uniform complete with a hat bearing the Scotland Yard symbol.

Oh god, what an idiot, what on earth and everything holy was he doing here?!

Right now!?

In his staff room!?

_While he was meant to be working?!_

"Sherlock, what the hell are you doi-"

"Kissogram for John Watson." he smiled slyly.

"Wh-WHAT!?" Watson spluttered.

"I said…" he licked his lips, _oh Christ. "_Kissogram for John Watson." The detective/policeman took a hostile step forwards.

John mirrored it and took a step back.

"No, no wait…what?"

"You heard me…"

Practically the whole staff room was staring at this display now…over 20 people.

But that wasn't the worst, over 20 people that John _worked with_ and would possibly _see again_ after this event.

"No…" he stepped back again, glancing around at all the staring faces.

Some were intrigued, some were bored, some were shocked and some were even _giggling!_

No, this wasn't funny, this was serious!

This was Sherlock Holmes being a serious idiot!

"No…Sh-Sherlock…you can't do this." He spluttered as the detective drew in closer.

_Oh god, that outfit was making him look bloody gorgeous. _No, shut up brain!

_But just look at those lips, oh Christ, so soft; and those cheekbones and that hair._

_Oh shit, SHUT UP!_

"It's just a Kissogram, John." Sherlock _pleaded_, his eyes glittering darkly under his hat.

"Yes, well…" he continued to walk backwards until he collided with a table "Kissograms are from one person to another, so who's this from?" he was hoping to catch him out but Sherlock was as quick as ever.

His verdigris eyes flickered to a random colleague of his, one he actually rather admired.

"Her." He spat, pointing in the woman's direction.

"Wha-what!?" she flushed from being involved so suddenly.

"See, she likes you…" Sherlock hurried.

John opened his mouth to protest but it was filled with warmth before he could manage anything.

_Shit, shit ,shit, he's kissing him. He's actually kissing him, oh god…his tongue!_

No, he should be fighting him off; he wasn't gay-oh-fuck-did-he-just-moan-shit-that-was-hot.

Our good doctor was aware of people cheering and clapping and even wolf whistling behind him but he didn't care, for now all that mattered was Sherlock.

He was going to absolutely murder the man when he got home, but for now he couldn't seem to resist him.

Pulling his body flush up against Sherlock's, he moaned quietly as Sherlock's tongue swiped gently over his upper lip.

When did he close his eyes?

This was bliss; John wondered how long he'd been keeping this desire locked up for.

He imagined it was from their first meeting, he had literally blown him away with his deductions and John had had nothing but respect for the man since.

And obviously a little bit more than respect.

Sherlock began to pull away and John found himself standing on his tip toes so as to get as much of the man as possible, but alas it was too late and the kiss was broken.

Watson whimpered a little and just managed to look into the detective's satisfied eyes before he crumpled on the floor and fainted, just the small sound of laughter leaving his lips before it went black.

And that was how John's day got about ten _thousand_ times worse than it already was but also ten _million _times better as well.

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Thanks for reading, find me on tumblr! graduating-cumberlady


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